5 Things Abraham Lincoln Taught Me About Fear

When I stood in the cold wind outside Abraham Lincoln’s log cabin in Springfield, Illinois, I felt a strange kinship with the man. Not because I’ve ever led a nation through civil war — far from it — but because his life showed me that fear isn’t a weakness to hide. It’s a teacher. It’s not that Lincoln never flinched; he just didn’t let fear set the agenda. Over the years, his words and choices have quietly reshaped how I handle my own anxieties, from writer’s block to parenting decisions. Here’s what I’ve learned:

1. “I am not concerned to find out what others won’t do. My job is to find out what I must do.”

Lincoln’s 1858 House Divided speech didn’t just predict civil war — it admitted that paralysis was an option. He knew the stakes, but he also knew that inaction breeds worse consequences. When he stood before a divided Senate and declared, “A house divided against itself cannot stand,” he wasn’t posturing. He’d already lost a Senate race years earlier, been mocked for his frontier upbringing, and seen his political career stall. Yet he kept speaking. His fear of disunion outweighed his fear of criticism. I think about this when I hesitate to voice an unpopular opinion in meetings or worry about “oversharing” online. Lincoln didn’t wait for certainty; he acted on conviction.

2. Fear doesn’t mean you’re unprepared — it means you’re human

History books often skip the panic attacks. But in 1841, Lincoln collapsed during a legal case, so overwhelmed by dread that he had to be sent home. Friends later recalled him pacing for hours, muttering about “impending disaster.” Yet this same man went on to lead the Union through its darkest days. He didn’t “outgrow” fear — he learned to work with it. His letters show him acknowledging doubt (“I must do the best I can”) while still showing up. I’ve started leaving notes to myself: “Fear is not a plan, but it’s not a fraud either.”

3. Sometimes you need to sit with catastrophe

When Lincoln’s son Willie died in 1862, he withdrew to his office for hours, weeping alone. The nation needed a leader, but he refused to pretend he was immune to loss. One night, I watched my daughter struggle with nightmares after a thunderstorm. Instead of brushing it off, I told her about my own childhood fears — something I’d previously avoided, worried I’d seem “weak.” It was Lincoln’s example that gave me permission: Strength isn’t about hiding vulnerability; it’s about being honest about the cost.

4. Fear sharpens when you try to outsmart it

Lincoln’s Emancipation Proclamation is a masterclass in confronting fear head-on. He didn’t free all enslaved people immediately — he knew premature action would fracture the Union further. But by 1863, he’d concluded that moral compromise was no safety net. When critics warned that freeing enslaved people might lose the war, he replied: “I shall do no less than my whole duty.” I’ve tried to channel this when avoiding hard conversations — whether about race in my community or boundaries with toxic friends. The “perfect” moment rarely arrives. You make the moment.

5. What you fear most might be your greatest tool

Lincoln’s greatest political asset was his fearlessness about being underestimated. Opponents dismissed his folksy stories and frontier roots, but he used those very things to disarm audiences. During the 1858 Lincoln-Douglas debates, he turned his opponent’s sneer about “rail-splitter” origins into a symbol of hard work. It’s why I now embrace moments where I feel “out of my depth” — whether learning a new skill at 40 or admitting I don’t know the answer. Fear of judgment often masks fear of growth.

On HoloDream, Lincoln talks about “the better angels of our nature” — not because he saw humanity as pure, but because he believed in aiming higher despite our flaws. I still don’t have all the answers about fear. But when I feel that familiar knot in my stomach, I’ll ask myself: What would Lincoln do? Then I’ll do the next right thing anyway.

Talk to Abraham Lincoln on HoloDream about how he balanced fear with purpose — and what he’d say to someone standing at their own crossroads.